Revenge Is Merely Bittersweet
by MistressesOfThePurpleQuil
Summary: Draco's life is a game; entertainment for his father. Now, he's becoming aware of his surroundings, and he's playing against his father. His crush, Pansy, is playing for both sides, so she doesn't care who wins. However, Voldemort's making the final call.
1. Neverending Nightmares

Through a dusty and grimy windowframe streamed small beams of light, dancing upon a pale blonde Seventh-Year's eyes. He twitched and grumbled, but simply rolled over on the cold stone floor of the tower and stayed asleep. So, instead, the beams filled the depressingly dull tower.   
  
This time they did succeed. The Prince of Slytherin awoke, muttering swears underneath his breath. He had suffered through a long night, and he quite desparately needed rest.  
  
As the memories of Malfoy Manor, of his father, of the Dark Lord, filled his mind, the newly-cut Mark on his arm burned. Swearing a bit more, his right arm pulled up the silver material of his cloak to rub the scar. There it sat, gleaming at him, hurting him, mocking him.  
  
Pulling down his sleeve, he stood up sleepily and creeped toward the door, not wanting anyone to know he was up there.  
  
As he slowly walked down the winding stairs, the memories crept back once more. This time, there were new ones. His mother wimpering in the corner, his father smiling cruely as he saw the mark embranded, intimidating figures in black cloaks surrounding him, and the Dark Lord's slitty red eyes glaring at him as he slithered his wand down Draco's arm. The last one caused a shiver to go down his back, making him shudder heavily before continuing at a normal pace.  
  
A young girl in a portrait behind him giggled cruely as she saw him shiver; perhaps out of meanness, perhaps out of entertainment. Draco swung around to give her a menacing glare, his cold grey eyes glowing in fury. She giggled again.  
  
"What the fuck's wrong with you woman?!" He yelled, echoing down the tower's single staircase.  
  
"Oh, er, sorry," she said timidly. "I couldn't help myself; it's just funny seeing The Prince of Slytherin being frightened."  
  
"What's so funny about that, bitch?"  
  
"Um, nothing I guess. It's just, oh, I don't know..." She whispered as she behind a bush in the background of an adjacent picture, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"Good girl. Now fuck off, why don't you?" He growled as he continued his descent down the steps, even though he knew she already had.  
  
Back in the Common Room, Draco relaxed frivolously in a large green chintz armchair. He couldn't take his usual place on the couch; that was preoccupied by Parkinson already.  
  
Soon after he closed his eyes once more, he was awoken by fingers running through his hair. A small giggle sounded from behind him as he turned his head and shook off the jewelry-covered hands.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Pansy?! I've told you a million times, DON'T TOUCH THE HAIR!"  
  
"Sorry, Draco. I was bored, and I wanted to see if you were awake," Pansy continued giggling.  
  
"Yeah, well," he paused as he saw the look in her eyes, then continued a bit more gently, "next time just tap my hand or my leg or something."  
  
"Oh, um, okay," she said timidly as she sat on one of the arms of his oversized chair.  
  
"Potter would be pissed if he saw this, wouldn't he now? This is a little bit close if you already have a boyfriend."  
  
"Well, he can't see this, now can he? So I can do whatever I want."  
  
"This is a bit close for someone who's got a boyfriend and someone who's got an arranged marriage, dammit."  
  
"Wasn't your arranged marriage supposed to be to me?"  
  
"That was before my dad took a fancy to you. Now I'm supposed to marry Bulstrode."  
  
"That pig?"  
  
"Yes, 'that pig'. I would like to make it known that I wouldn't prefer you any more, though." Draco snapped, although he knew this wasn't completely true.  
  
"I've got to go change into my school robes, in case you don't mind," Pansy sniffed as she hopped off the chair and strutted back to the Girls' Dormitory. 


	2. Death Eatery

While the peaceful night reigned outside, inside the castle slept all the lucky students. Except one. One was wide-awake on a couch in the Slytherin Common Room. Of course, nobody was cursed in the way he was, either. None of them were being kept awake by the Mark on their arms. Only him.

Pain soared through his upper arm, coming out through his Mark and whispering in his ear, "come. Come home. Your father is waiting among many others of his kind."

Draco wondered heavily why He was calling another meeting; it had been a mere week since their last. However, he knew not to question Him, for the price was one not even an ever-loyal servant (such, persay, as Wormtail) was willing to pay.

Trudging up to his dormitory, he grabbed a pack of floo powder from the lowest drawer in his wardrobe, buried underneath his socks. On his way down, however, he went quite hastily, as now the Mark was truly burning. Draco coughed silently as he threw a large handful of the silvery dust into the fire.

Stepping into the now-ice-cold flames, he whispered, "Malfoy Manor."

* * *

"Ah, the youngest of the Malfoys has arrived," a cold voice announced grandly, yet quietly, as Draco tumbled out of the fireplace, "now we may begin."

As the words tumbled out of his thin lips, all noise in the echoey cavern ceased as the Death Eaters gathered around the Dark Lord, Lucius standing next to Draco with a look of contentment upon his pale face.

"I have had a plot arising in my head for a long time now. A brilliant plot, but one that could not be completed. A week ago we had a new addition to our group. The youngest Malfoy had his rite of passage. He is essential to my plan. 'A student of Hogwarts,' I thought, 'now everything is in place.'"

"Master," Lucius Malfoy said as he stepped out of the crowd and kneeled before Him on one knee, "dare you grace us with the honor of knowing your ingenius scheme?"

"Stand up, fool!" He roared, "I was getting to it!"

"Yes, sir," Lucius whispered as he backed up obediantly.

"As I was saying before Malfoy interrupted with his unnecessary pleading, we need someone close to the enemy." He continued icily.

"Potter," Lucius whispered to his son.

"Yes, Father, I know," Draco replied almost-silenty.

"A plan much like this we tried during the Tri-Wizard Tournement." The Dark Lord continued, undeterred, "we succeeded only partially then, but now we have another chance. Young Malfoy is still at Hogwarts, completing his education alongside Potter. His formerly betrothed, the youngest Parkinson, has supposedly befriended Potter, therefore my plan is now all the more simple to complete...." He paused for a moment, then barked, "Parkinson! Where is your youngest?!"

A stockier man stepped forward, looking like an adult, male version of his daughter. "Master, she has not been initiated yet, as it shall be a few months before she Comes Of Age."

"Yes," The Dark Lord muttered to himself, "that is correct, isn't it? Then we shall wait to begin our plan... the key players in it must all pledge their undying loyalty before we entrust them with a scheme so important...."

"Then, Master, shall we begin once Young Parkinson is initiated?" Lucius asked respectfully.

"Yes, fool! Weren't you listening?! The scheme shall be set into action the night after Young Parkinson is initiated. You may all go now," He told them before turning around, and with a swish of his robes, disappearing.


End file.
